The Tales of the YouTuber and the Leprechaun
by HPandPJnerd19568
Summary: Jack, as elves do, was just minding his own business, looting around. But then, of course he had to go and get stuck in someones suitcase, and shipped allll the way to America. Jack/Mark, creature, language, fluffffffffffffff. Part one of 'The Tales of' series. Does not need to be read in order, promise.


This is my first Septiplier fic, so I'm sorry if I fail horribly.

I haven't been watching Markiplier for long but I've been streaming his shit like I need it to live, so I feel like I kinda got a grip on his mannerisms.

I'm pretty confident in Jack, since I've been watching him for fucking ages and he's my favorite YouTuber.

But yeah. It's a creature fic. Kinda. I hope you likey?

* * *

"Bollocks."

* * *

Everyone knows about werewolves, vampires, fairies. They're mythical creatures.

But then again, they're not. They're real. They live, they breath, they walk amongst mortals. Them, and so many other creatures that humans believe are nothing but legends and bedtime stories.

Well. Not all of them walk amongst humans. Griffins like to stay in their own area in a forest, and fairies usually can't be bothered with humans; they're creatures of beauty, and in the human world, they can see nothing but savagery and massacre. Of course, that was hundreds of years ago, but the human culture was still violent, by all means.

Others, like werewolves, live amidst mortals. Vampires prefer covens to humans, but they still have no problem with going to a shop in broad daylight. They just need a lot of sunscreen.

Another misconception was elves. There were all different types of elves, in all actuality. There were some that lived in the depths of forests, some that were part tree, some that only moved in shadows.

And then there was Jack's type of elf.

He wasn't nearly as cool as any of the other types (in his opinion), and were the most criticized, honestly. Leprechauns aren't real, but it was a human spotting one of Jack's species for the myth to start. The greedy hoarder had liked brightly colored things, so of course a rainbow would attract in. Add some loose gold lying around, and boom! New myth.

But either way, it's what Jack was, even if he wasn't always happy with it. And with being his type of elf, there came rules. All creatures had rules, different ones, but still rules. He thought his were rather unfair.

Not that he could do anything about it. To disobey could mean death, depending on the situation.

And he happened to be in one such situation the one type he hadn't listened to some of his rules.

Jack had been scouring hotels; the ones that weren't complete shite. As a looter, (for a lack of better human word) he prefered to scavenge the places that were more likely to have better stuff. Currently, he was rooting through a suitcase. The suit itself had been empty when he entered, but the suitcase had been left wide open. His grappling hook was still on the side, from when he had climbed up, the rope dangling uselessly.

 _There has to be something shiny here...please let there be something shiny?_ Rooting around, Jack's pointed ears twitched. He brushed it off, it sounded like a maid. He made a frustrated noise and secured his grappling hook back around himself; this might take awhile, and he could jump down from here if he wanted too, if he needed a quick escape.

Jack dug further into the clothes, rifling through jean pockets. He found some pretzel things, which was nice. And then, he heard it.

The sound of the door to the suit closing. The sound was muffled, as were the voices and sounds, as Jack had been slightly buried under the clothes. Currently, he was in the pocket of a red flannel. He froze, ears twitching.

"Gonna be late, gonna be late, gonna be late, fuck fuck fuck! Did the Uber guy accept? Yeah, alright, uhh...what's next, what's next...toothbrush! Of course. Fucking Felix, holding me up."

Jack didn't know what to do. A deep voice resonated down to him, as well as the rushed sounds of panicked moving. He should go. Make his way out. This was the only chance he would get. But he was frozen in fear. This hadn't happened before; he'd never had this close of an encounter with a human. What were the rules? Oh, he couldn't remember the rules!

Suddenly, noises were heard around him; things were being dumped into the suitcase. "Shit!" All light was cut off as the suitcase closed. Jack burrowed himself into the flannel as the zipper sounded, knowing he would be jostled to all Jesus before this was over.

He was trapped. Stuck. With no way out.

"Bollocks."

Jack trembled slightly, shocked at himself and what was going on. He was jostled, and then stilled, and then it was vibrating and humming and he recognized the loud noises of traffic, and then he was moving, and stopping, and moving and stopping, on in on, until it was still for so long, before he felt the motions getting faster and faster, and then a loud, thundering noise as he became light-headed.

He was on a plane.

The hours passed slowly. He had no idea how long he was on that plane, but it had to have been ages. He had nothing to eat besides the little snack food he had earlier, and no water. Or whisky! He needed booze.

Jack had made his way from the flannel some time ago, resting on the top when he was suddenly extremely hot after landing. Where were they, a desert? But then he was being bucked around none-too gently, and then it was still. He would have so many bruises by tomorrow!

He wasn't prepared to be picked up, and then roughly set on the ground. Before he had a chance to hide, the zipper flew open, and he came face to (smaller) face with a _mortal._

"What the fuck?" The mortal cried out. Jack flinched as the lid of the suitcase was slammed shut once more. He recognized the deep voice. It was the same man from the hotel.

Mark, meanwhile, was unsure of what just happened. People were staring at him for his outburst, not that he cared, he was more concerned with the fact that _there had been a tiny person in his suitcase! Tiny person! With...bright green hair? And a grappling hook...I'm insane, I need sleep._ Mark prayed he was right, (or was he hoping he was wrong?) as he slowly opened the suitcase once more.

Nothing was there.

Mark slumped. He wasn't sure why, but then he rose and called an Uber, desperate to get home.

The first thing he did when he got home was fling open the fridge. And then his suitcase. Food in hand, Mark held his breath as he looked inside. Huffing when he found nothing (but what was there to find?) he grabbed his flannel, sniffing it to see if it was clean.

He was not expecting to see a tiny lump in one of the breast pockets. Cautiously, he looked inside. There was a small mop of bright green hair. Mark shouted, flinging the article of clothing away from him. He could only stare as the little bump made a noise, and angrily popped its head out.

"The fuck you d' tha' for?" The...tiny...person shouted. Mark was stunned. He righted his glasses, in time to see the tiny head panic, and then shoot back down into the pocket, where it grew still. He crawled forward. Hesitantly, he poked the bulge.

A squeak made way to his ears. "Don't touch me there, ye pervert!" The strong Irish accent shouted. Mark pulled his hovering hand away violently.

Jack was freaking out. He was breaking so many rules! He was terrified he'd get squashed like all the stories went of his people before him, who ended up interacting with humans, but his own nature was butting in. Jack peeped his head out again.

The mortal was staring at him, red hair flopping into his face, glasses slipping off his nose and brown eyes staring intently at him. He held one hand tightly to his chest, as though it was wounded.

"Hi?" The moral whispered.

 _I've already broken so many rules, I should get out now. Run away._

 _Where would I go? Who knows where in fuckin' hell we are!_

 _Fucking Jesus Christ on a stick…_

"Top o' th' mornin' to ye." Jack said.

"You...are a tiny person."

Not what Jack had expected. He nodded, still extremely hesitant of the giant mortal. He was only a few inches tall!

"And...you were in my suitcase...why were you in my suitcase?" The moral whispered.

Jack sat up, his lower half still in the pocket. "I didn't mean t' be…"

"What are you?" The mortal whispered.

Jack winced. But he'd already broken all the other rules, so fuck it. "I'm an elf."

"An elf." The mortal said monotonously.

"Ye." Jack said with a smile. He was doomed, might as well enjoy it.

"I'm insane." The mortal whispered, blinking.

"Nah." Jack made a waving hand gesture.

"Then, could you please explain to me how you ended up in my suitcase?"

"I was looting around, and then you came thunderin' in and locked me in!" Jack crossed his arms over his chest.

"Oh...wait, why were you 'looting' my suitcase?" The mortal asked.

"It's what I do...it's my nature."

"Right."

Mark knew he was going insane. It was the only thing that made sense in all of this. But...he had touched the thing...person...so...didn't that mean it was real?

"Are you sure you're real?"

"Very fuckin' real."

"And mouthy."

"Tha' too."

Mark ran a hand through his hair. "Uhm...where am I, exactly?" The _elf_ spoke. Mark eyes widened. He had pulled the little guy all the way from his home! Across the ocean! _Oh, shit._

"You're in California. America." Mark spoke quietly. He saw the elf blink at him, then let out a long, slow breath. "I'm so sorry, I-"

"It's fine." Jack interrupted him, setting his hands in his lap. He was never going home. Not that he would most likely be welcomed, anyways.

"I made you travel all the way across the ocean!" The man waved his hands around, musing his hair up horribly.

"I won' be going back." Jack said quietly, staring at his hands.

"I'm-wait, why not?" The mortal blinked, looking at him in concern.

"I won' be allowed back…" Jack didn't look up as he replied.

"Why?"

Jack sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"We have rules, back home. It's a bit long, and I'm a bit parched from the flight. Can ye get me some water?" Jack looked up finally, rising to his feet as he told himself to get a grip.

"Oh! Of course, right, uhm, would you like to come to the kitchen?" At Jack's nod, the man started to move forward, but faltered. "Uh, how do I…?"

Jack snorted. Should he be offended?

"Just lay your palm flat." Jack climbed up on the offered palm, the human gently raising it to be eye level.

"Well hi there."

Jack made a motion of tipping his cap, smiling. Where was his cap? In his pack somewhere...where was that? Right, suitcase. He'd get it later. He really was thirsty.

"I never got your name."

"Nor I yours."

"I'm Mark. Sorry for...carting you across the world." _Mark. That fits._ The man smiled. Jack took his first good look had him. He was quite handsome, with darker skin and glasses framing his face. His hair was rather like Jack's, black at the root, shaved on the sides, and dyed at the top in a poof. He was also quite muscular, which Jack had noticed wasn't too particularly common with mortals.

"I'm Jack. Pleasure ta be the firs' mythical creature you've met." Jack bowed slightly. Mark smiled, and set him down on the counter.

"Uh...what do I put the water in?"

"Do you know how to sew?"

"Yes…?"

"A thimble would be perfect." Mark nodded, and left the room quickly. He thought he had a thimble somewhere in that sewing kit his mum had gotten him after she taught him. If he could find it, that was. Ruffling around in his closet for a minute proved successful, and Mark returned shortly, shiny metal thing in hand. He set it down for Jack once it was full. Once the Irish elf was done, he sighed.

Mark took a moment to study the elf. His hair was brown on the sides, but green on the top. He was about two inches tall, maybe three. He had donned a white shirt and jeans. His ears were slightly pointed at the tip, but other than that and his height, nothing seemed even remotely abnormal, besides maybe the suspenders.

"What did you mean by rules?" Mark said after a moment of silence. Jack glanced up, as though he had forgotten Mark was there.

"Every mythological creature species has rules. Some are a bit looser than others. Mine avoid humans all ta'gether. 'Run when you hear noises, never linger for long, never speak to a human, never interact with a human, never be seen by a human' etc, etc. Ye get th' idea." Jack sighed.

Mark nodded, but scrunched his nose. "Why are those rules around?"

Jack fixed a crooked smile. "If an elf falls completely and irrevocably in love with a mortal, they become mortal, size and all."

"Wow." Mark breathed. "That's...rough. I'm sorry. But, wait, when that happens, wouldn't the clothes the elf was wearing tear or something?" Mark raised an eyebrow. Jack couldn't really explain the growing blush on his face.

"I've been told the clothes would grow with the elf, but I'm not sure, I haven't seen it in person."

"Right. So, you're welcome to stay as long as you want, but I need to do something for a little while, if you'll excuse me?" At Jack's nod (he could get himself down the counter easily if he wanted to) Mark smiled slightly and walked out of the room.

A minute later, he heard Mark's voice, a bit louder than he was used to hearing. "Helllo everybody! My name is Markiplier-"

* * *

Jack ended up staying with Markiplier. He didn't have anywhere else to go, either way. Throughout the year they were 'roommates' they got used to each others company. Jack would sit on Mark's desk whilst he was recording (out of the field of vision of the camera), and Mark would give him whatever spare change h found. Jack liked shiny things, he admitted, and he may or may not have had a small horde in the top desk drawer.

Mark also had a guest bedroom for him to sleep in, and seemed worried Jack wouldn't like the bed because it was too big, but Jack was happy to sleep in it. He felt like he was sleeping on a cloud constantly. It was amazing. By now he was an expert at getting around the house.

Mark, for his part, hadn't told anyone about Jack, per request. And if people ever came over (which almost never happened) Mark would always give Jack a warning, and enough time to make himself comfortable for awhile in wherever he was going to hold up, which was usually in Mark's room, under the bed.

Jack couldn't deny what he was feeling, try as he might. He had known for a while he was growing fond of Mark, but as he realized it was getting to the point of a dangerous love (for him) he had begun to panic. He didn't want to be mortal, he had been an elf all his life, what if something happened in the change?

What if Mark didn't want him back?

So many thoughts rustled around Jack's head constantly. Usually, he would just flop down in bed and snuggle into the sheets to fall asleep and not think about the ache in his chest. Tonight was no such expectation, and he had fallen asleep by eleven, which was slightly unusual for him. He was very tired, and he wasn't sure why.

Mark went to sleep about an hour later, having been editing for awhile. He had only been asleep for about four hours when a loud crash and cursing from Jack's room had him springing out of bed and running to the elf's room; why was he so loud suddenly?

Mark flung the door open, stopping short at the sight that met his eyes. On the ground, the sheets tangled around him, sat a fully grown man, clutching his head and cursing like there was no tomorrow in a heavy Irish accent.

"Jack?"

Abruptly, all sound stopped. Jack looked up, staring at Mark in absolute fear. "M-Mark…" Jack whispered. They stared at each other in silence. For how long, neither was sure. Until Mark walked over. Jack flinched, but he merely held out his hand, offering Jack assistance to stand.

Jack took his hand, standing on wobbly legs. His whole world shifted, and then he was falling. He flailed, startled at seeing such a long distance underneath him. Yelping as something caught him, Jack flinched violently, expecting pain, but instead he was pulled into Mark's chest. Freezing for a millisecond, Jack looked up.

"I...I can't explain." Jack whispered, unable to look away as shame and embarrassment filled his eyes. Eyes, which were very _blue_ , Mark realized. He had never noticed before. Nor had he noticed things such as now lean Jack was, or how handsome. He was still about an inch shorter than Mark.

"Your eyes are very blue." Was the first thing Mark chose to say. Jack furrowed his eyebrows, even as a blush creeped up his neck.

"Ye understand wha' this means Mark, don't ye? Th' I'm morta-"

"I understand. You don't need to explain. I remember." Mark smiled gently. Jack couldn't do much but blink. "It's okay Jack-"

"Sean." Jack interrupted. Mark raised an eyebrow in question. "My name is Sean Mcloughlin. Everyone calls me Jack."

Mark smiled widely. "Nice to meet you, Sean. Very nice name you have."

"Mark, as I much as I appreciate wha' yer doin', ye can' ignore-"

"I'm not ignoring it." Mark said quietly.

"But ye don' understan-" Mark grabbed Jack's shoulders.

"Jack. I understand. I promise."

Jack shook his head. "Ye can'. Otherwise ye wouldn' be actin' like this."

"Sean-"

"Prove it. Prove ye know. Please." Jack whispered, looking up at Mark. His red hair was dangling loosely in his face; Jack's hands itched to brush it out of the way, but he was scared to touch Mark; scared to be rejected.

Mark moved his hands from Jack's waste, putting them on his face to cup it. "I understand, Jack. And I think I love you too. I'm actually very pleased you're now my size. I can look at you properly now. Though I'll admit, I might miss the ears." Mark commented with a small smile, eyes flickering for a moment to Jack's regular human ears.

At any other time, Jack would have flipped, running his hands over and over his ears, mourning his loss. But right now, Jack was completely focused on the man in front of him. He was having trouble speaking, his voice having lodged itself in his throat. His voice itself was odd too, deeper than he remembered, but he supposed that was because his vocal cords had stretched with him.

"Ye mean tha'?" Jack whispered. Mark smiled. He was so taken back by Jack's mannerisms. Never once had he seen the elf -er, mortal- look shy, or insecure. But now he had an armful of vulnerable Irish, and he wasn't about to let go.

"I wouldn't say it if I didn't. I wouldn't lie about something like that. Let me show you?"

Mind spinning with the possibilities of what _that_ statement meant, Jack just nodded.

Slowly, giving Jack time to back away, Mark lowered his head, until his lips gently touched Jack's. Cautiously and carefully, they kissed. Then Jack had to ruin it by giggling.

Mark pulled away, a smile stretching his lips. "Do you believe me now."

Jack nodded, smiling and giggling happily.

* * *

SO TELL ME WATCHA THOUGHT WATCHA REALLY REALLY THOUGHT (DANCES AGGRESSIVELY)


End file.
